Why Natasha Romanov Is Okay As Only The Second Scariest In SHIELD
by Arcaratus
Summary: As far as I'm concerned, AoU never happened. Never, okay? Soo, if you didn't somehow manage to figure out what this story is about, learn how to read. But if you didn't, classic Melinda May and Natasha Romanov love story. In my head, this pairing might as well be canon is the AU known as the MCU. Okay? Good.
1. Scary People Are Scary For A Reason

When Melinda May woke up, and got ready for her usual morning workout, she was expecting two, maybe even three things. One, Coulson, with his usual over cheery, over fake, over annoying grin, and her coffee. Two, the S.H.E.I.L.D. gym where she usually worked out to be clear of everybody except maybe Hill. And possibly three, a nonexistent pile of paperwork that she had to do before the day was over. Wait, who was she kidding? Number Three always happened, no matter how many people she threatened. What she was not, however, expecting, was someone who was supposed to be on S.H.E.I.L.D.'s Most Wanted list punching away on _her_ punching bag. Nope, not what she was expecting, not in the least. However, in Melinda May's mind, there were two kinds of people. The type of people who followed the rules, and generally failed in life, and never had any fun. And the people who broke every rule possible without getting fired, and had the time of their life. Melinda May, even though she quit field work, could still cause a decent amount of havoc when she so chose, and classified herself in the latter category. And that is why Melinda May found herself walking up to someone who was supposed to be able to kill her with her pinky, (yeah right) and asked, "Would you like to spar?"

The woman whirled around, having not noticed May until she spoke, and hard, gem-like emerald orbs stared into May's dark brown ones. "Pardon?" She asked in heavily accented English.

May snorted, "Cut the accent, it's not going to work."

The woman looked quite taken aback at being addressed like that, and for being called out on her act. "I could kill you with my pinky," she pointed out.

May grimaced, "Unlikely."

The woman raised in eyebrow. "Barton said to not accept any challenges, he said to not make any contact with anyone but him and some Cheese guy."

May scowled, "Should've known Coulson and Barton would be the ones to do this. Anyways, Barton's an ass, and if anyone has a chance of knocking you on your ass, it's me, so would you like to spar?"

The woman raised both eyebrows this time, and commented, "You're quite cocky, maybe I should take you down a couple of notches."

"Doubt it."

"You're on."

May grinned, and led the woman over to the sparring mats.

* * *

"Ugghhhh," Natasha could not recall a time when she was older than 12 and had been knocked on her ass as many times as she had while sparring with the Asian women who had very good reason to be as cocky as she was. Admittedly, she had landed in a few good hits, even knocking the Asian women down once or twice, but really, Natasha knew that in a real fight, she was a goner. The only consolation that she could find (and it was a very small bit) was that the other woman looked as tired as Natasha. Then again, she also wasn't the one on her ass, so it wasn't much.

"You okay?" The woman asked Natasha, as she offered a hand up.

"Yea, m'fine." Natasha replied, as she straightened herself out. "Just wasn't expecting all that from you. Maybe from Barton, but not you."

May cocked an eyebrow, "And what are you insinuating?"

"Nothing, you just don't look like much."

"I'll have you know, lady, that I can control your life in S.H.I.E.L.D. with a well-placed piece of paper, and a couple of keystrokes. I also trained Barton."

"My name's Natasha, you know, lady." Natasha muttered sourly in response.

The Asian women let out a peal of laughter at Natasha's childishness, and grinned, "I knew that."

Natasha grimaced, and stomped off to the showers, as people started to arrive. Well, it was only one lady, but Natasha was not taking any chances with the scary women of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a long, long time.

Melinda simply grinned after her, before realizing two things. One: Maria was here, and if she didn't wipe that stupid grin off her face now, she would be in biiig trouble. Like, Coulson sized trouble. Two: It was the first time that she had smiled like that since Bahrain, and May missed the feeling.

* * *

After her refreshing shower, Natasha returned to the room that S.H.I.E.L.D. had issued her, and took out the laptop that came with the room, determined to dig up as much as she could on the lady that had beat her earlier. Before she knew it, hours had flew by, and Natasha had gathered an insultingly small amount about the woman. All she knew was her name, (and it was a lovely one) and other unimportant things about her. Nothing about her past, or why such a talented person was sitting in Admin. Someone knocked on her door, and Natasha scrambled to hide all of what she had been searching up about Melinda May. Barton and another man strolled her room, and Natasha had barely managed to close all of her windows and switch to a more boring site about S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol.

"Hey," Barton said, "What's up?"

"What's up is that I've been stuck here for the better part of the day, and the only time I'm allowed to exercise is at the crack ass of dawn. I thought you said I'd be able to do things?" Natasha whined crossly, and no, she did not whine, it was not dignified, she merely expressed her disapproval in a more childish manner.

"Sorry," Barton grimaced. Then he brightened. "Oh, right, I wanted you to meet Phil Coulson, otherwise known as -"

"Don't say it," The man next to Barton warned.

"Cheese?" Natasha asked.

"How did you know?" The man asked curiously.

Natasha shrugged. "I'm special."

Clint snorted. "Damn right."

Coulson raised his eyebrows, but remained otherwise silent. "Anyways, I'm Clint's handler, and will be yours, too, when you officially join us. Is that alright with you, Natasha, or would you prefer another arrangement?""

Natasha merely shrugged in response, and said, "Whatever's okay with you, I guess I'm fine with. But aren't you supposed to have a partner or something, to help with whatever you do?"

Coulson smiled demurely, "Yes, Melinda May, she doesn't do field work anymore, but I assure you, I'm more than capable of handling two assets at one time, even without May's help, no matter how nice it would have been."

"Yeah," Clint joked, "You could have just made her glare at everyone to make them obey, and then if they resisted, have her beat them up."

"Clint..." Coulson glared at Clint, and Natasha could have sworn that she saw something other than annoyance in Coulson's eyes when he glared at Barton. It was just admiration, though? People admired their coworkers who were especially skilled in their job, right? Coulson didn't have any feelings for the admittedly terrifying Melinda May, right? She was just imagining things, right? Natasha shook her head. Why would she even care about these things? She shouldn't. After all, she, the Black Widow, had no feelings for the woman nicknamed the Cavalry, did she?

"Well, back to business," Coulson said, and Natasha's mind flew from the enchanting topic of Melinda May.

The three of them talked over the conditions of Natasha's employment, the expectations, and the restrictions on her access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers at least until she proved herself capable of the job. Once all was said was done, and the men had left Natasha's room, she mulled over the topic of Melinda May, and what to do about he. Natasha resolved to once more wake up at the crack ass of dawn, and thoroughly learn all about the enigma that was Melinda May. I mean, seriously, her files were more secure than Fury's! And that was saying something.

* * *

The next day, Natasha woke up at the same exact time as yesterday, and excitedly prepared to meet May. However, she was quite disappointed when May failed to show up for that day's early morning workout. She was also notably absent the next day. And the next. Finally, when a week had almost passed, and Natasha was beginning to give up hope, Natasha received a letter that read:

 _Tomorrow night? You can pick the place – I know, I'm so nice and thoughtful._

 _\- Melinda May_

 _(The Person who knocked you on Your Ass)_

And Natasha smiled.


	2. We Learn Why Now, May Doesn't Like Hand

**So, turns out not updating for a looooong, loooong time is not beneficial towards one's writing experience! Who knew? Everybody who hates me can blame that lady driving the car that decided speeding in a school zone was a good idea. And so, I bring you this, brought back, and painfully edited from the deep recess of my computer.**

"This is where you pick?" May asked wondering why she had even decided to do this - oh wait, it was that bet with Hand that she could have fun. Yep, totally the only reason why she was doing this.

Above the thundering bass of the club music, Natasha, leaning against the bar, arched an eyebrow, and shrugged blithely, a smirk playing at the edge of her mouth. "Problem?"

May pondered the question for a minute, before turning towards the bartender, and barked, "Double Bourbon, neat."

The bartender snapped at attention, and a panicked look shot across his face, before he whipped around towards the drinks, and began hurriedly preparing her drink.

Natasha observed quietly, and once the man had turned around, solely focused on making May's drink, she snorted, "My god, this is beautiful, you have to take me out drinking one day with Barton."

May deigned to not answer that request, and instead took her drink, and began sipping carefully, turning back to the rest of the club.

"Hey, what's a gal like you doin' in a place like this?" A big, burly man who's breath stank of way too much alcohol came up to our favorite ladies and slung an arm around Natasha's shoulders, grinning stupidly.

Natasha shifted his arm off her shoulders, leaned close to his ear, and quietly whispered. As she spoke, the man's arm began to hand limply, and his face got paler, and paler, and paler, until Natasha concluded her carefully articulated words, and the man nodded, before glancing around quickly, and then running for the hills. (Or, at least that is what one might assume would have happened.)

May watched this exchange, and when it was finished, she turned to Natasha, and asked, "Ready to head back to base?"

"Why, May, already? We've only known each other for so long!" Natasha gasped in feigned shock, "Really, I'm honored, but whatever would your mother say?"

"You wish," Was the dry reply.

* * *

"Hey! May!" Hand walked purposely up to May, and smiled, "So how was it? Sparks fly? A torrid love affair in the works? Spill!"

"I'm right here, you know," Natasha muttered.

Hand ignored her, and May simply rolled her eyes. "Better than anything you ever did."

"Why, Lin, I'm hurt! You know I'm an awesome date planner, and to think, that I've been outdone by a Russian!"

"Least she's an actual redhead." Was the succinct reply.

Hand turned to Natasha. "Well, if anything does happen, tell me. I have the reserved first rights for a shovel talk."

"And why should I tell you, then?"

Hand shrugged, turned away, and walked off.

Natasha turned to May, but before she could even open her mouth, May stopped her, "Hand thinks she's special because she was my wife before Bahrain, and she's the one who examines, reviews, and judges my love life. Honestly, it's not that bad, considering that all she wants is to make me happy after I threw all our good china at her, but if you ever tell her I said that, the Ancients wouldn't even be able to find your ancestors."

"Noted. Soooo, now what?"

"Well, I found this lovely thing in Hill's office, and I heard that she's in Wakanda now..."

* * *

Maria Hill walked into HQ right and early on Monday morning, expecting some paperwork, an overload of idiotic council member, and some more paperwork. What she was not, however, expecting was to walk into a silent HQ, with a bunch of rookie agents looking at her as if she had suddenly decided that aliens did exist. "What?" She barked, already anticipating another fail at the hands of the incompetent agents that S.H.I.E.L.D. had picked up this time.

"Uugh," One agent managed, before falling into a silent averting of the gaze.

"Speak properly!" Hill ordered, already tired of all the nonsense she had to endure, really, she deserved a pay raise.

"Well, you see," Another agent began.

Hill arched an eyebrow.

"Just wait a moment!" Another one piped up.

And then, an automated voice blared out of the loud speakers, because that's just how life works. "Today, we are learning all about heartbreak, and what you could have had if you had made the right decision a long, long time ago..."

A sinking feeling in Hill's stomach began sinking lower, and lower, and lower, until finally, out blared Hill's voice, in a lovely rendition of...

"I CAN'T HELP FEELING, WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALLLLLLLLL!"

And Hill's face began turning into an absolutely wonderful shade of pomegranate, and she stormed in to Fury's office. "How long has this been happening?" She demanded.

Fury looked up from his papers, and asked, in the middle of 'YOU HAD MY HEART INSIDE YOUR HAND!' "Pardon?"

"You know what! This!" Hill waved to the playing song above their head, anger seeping into her agitation.

"Hmm? Oh this?" Fury finally looked up, "Friday. Also, why didn't you tell me you sang? You could have joined karaoke night last week!"

Hill growled, before heading towards Coulson's office. "What is the meaning of this?" During, of course, "YOU'LL PAY ME BACK IN KIND AND REAP WHAT YOU JUST SOW!"

"Well, I honestly think this is you showing us why you never joined us during karaoke night, and that maybe you should try and be, less, well, less emotional?" Coulson offered.

"Where's Barton and May?"

"Hand mentioned that Barton's in Chile and May is currently filling out the paperwork to make Hand Romanov's SO."

"Admin?"

"Ye-"

Hill had turned on her heel, and was gone before Coulson had even finished speaking.

* * *

"May!" Hill called out, amid the rustling papers and chattering admin agents.

"Yes Maria?" May answered cordially, internally smiling at the success of her prank.

"Can you explain why that was just playing on the speakers?"

"Well," May began, "I would assume that the reason that you're wonderful version of pouring out your heart's pain, suffering, and loss onto the speakers would be because somehow you misplaced your, what was it tape? Of you singing that wonderful song, and it somehow got placed in the morning announcements. By the way, there's a request to sign up for karaoke night on your desk, thought I might just tell you."

Hill gritted her teeth, whirled around, and told May, "If that's what makes you sleep better at night, who am I to judge? But you might want to know that Barton's going to be in Chile a bit longer, pity, you won't be able to get anymore meringues for another couple months."

May smiled amicably, shrugged, and said, "Oh well, no matter, I'm sure he'll make up for it later."

* * *

Natasha met an extremely irritated Melinda May when May came striding into the gym like she owned the place (By all definitions she did), and began teaching the punching bag who's who.

"Somebody kill your puppy?"

"No, but somebody killed my sugar supply."

"Well, I could make you some brownies?" Natasha offered, inwardly chiding herself - she sounded like an idiot)

"Sure. Thanks." May replied.

"No problem."

"Mayyy!" Victoria Hand whined into the gym, looking for all the world as if somebody had killed her puppy, and she was not happy about it. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Not good enough," May muttered.

"What did you do?" Natasha asked.

"Well... you see... I kind of... well, I told Sitwell, who told Garret, who told Blake, who told Morse, who told Carter, who told Coulson, who told Hill, that Barton was in Chile, so Hill figured that May was the one to set up that singing thing, so she made sure that Barton was stuck in Chile for a while longer, and now May's angry, cause Barton stuck in middle-of-nowhere Chile means that May's not getting any more of Barton's meringues for a while, so now she's angry, and she followed the telephone line - the traitors - and figured out that I was the one that spilled the beans to Sitwell, who then told Garret, who told Blake, who told Morse, who told Carter, who told Coulson, who told Hill Barton's location, and yea, I'm stuck."

Natasha hissed in sympathy.

"And this," May punctuated her words with a jab, kick, or punch at the bag, "Is why you, Victoria Hand, am not someone whom I sort of like anymore. And you still owe me that new set of boots."

Hand scowled in defeat, before turning away, and leaving the two ladies to their amicable beating up of their respective punching bags.

An hour later, amid the sounds of heavy breathing, pounding on the bags, and cries of pain from where May was teaching the rookies how to spar properly, Natasha asked, to the reply of a curt nod, "So, drinks later?"

 **So, Natasha is the new Barton, we know that. Next up is probably going to be some... interesting things. Ideas?**


	3. Why Natasha is NOT the Master of Karaoke

**So, you see, I'm a** nice **and considerate person, and I kind of wanted to see this happen. Or make it happen. However...**

 **I need help, 'cause I'm kind of hopeless with pop culture, more in the whole books-older-than-your-great-great-great-grand-uncle-twice-removed boat. Like, I'm not even kidding, this took over three hours just to research these songs. And really, most of them came from questionable family tastes. So... Song ideas?**

"I am never, never ever letting you pick the place. Ever. Again." Melinda muttered into her drink, gazing sourly at what lay below her. Oh yes, it was a bar alright. A karaoke bar. She was going to skin Coulson, Hill, Hand, and then Romanov alive. In exactly that order.

"Why ever not?" Natasha asked, innocently batting her eyelashes, as if she had not decided to take a woman known as the Cavalry out to a karaoke bar. On competition night. Overhead, a man, to an unexpectedly tolerant audience was singing Bad Romance. Off-key. In a ridiculously high pitched voice. Okay, so maybe this wasn't this best idea. Next to her, Melinda was repeatedly closing her eyes, choking her glass, and taking deep, hopefully calming breaths. Well, at least if a fight broke out, she wouldn't be listening to this shit.

Melinda raised an eyebrow, at the miraculously quiet audience.

Natasha shrugged. "Not that bad, right?" She asked hopefully, praying to all that was mighty that nothing would happen to make her regret making this admittedly short-sighted decision as to where they would be having their drink. And then "Rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah! Gaga ooh-la-la!" was being shouted - not sang - from the audience, and Natasha just hoped that it would be over soon, and she could slink away into the shadows, gone from everything.

After a few minutes silence, Melinda finally spoke up. "I'm not going to kill you." Natasha sighed in relief, but May continued, "However, that is only because you are one of the only people on base who I don't seem to want to throttle at every waking moment." Natasha internally pumped her hands in the air. "So, in order to fix, this," At that, Melinda gestured to the mass screaming of bodies below them, "I am going to take you out for drinks, starting tomorrow. I will pick respectable, peaceful, quiet, _NORMAL_ bars, and you will not complain." Melinda sniffed with disdain at the scene under them, as the singer was trying to recover from his drunken fall of the elevated platform masquerading as a stage. "And there certainly will not be any karaoke." She added.

Natasha actually did pump her fists at that, and she silently cheered - the night was not a total fail, after all. And that was all that mattered, in the end.

"And you're going to go up there, and put your name up to compete in the karaoke contest." Melinda added, offhandedly, as if she was talking about a new breed of sheep that farmers had discovered. (She really wasn't)

Natasha's jaw dropped, but at Melinda's eyebrow raise, she dragged herself up to the stand, and penned in her name, under some guy named David Nolan. This was going to be fun!

Meanwhile, Melinda was typing on her phone, and when Natasha returned, she tapped in one last thing, turned her phone off, and turned to look at her companion, a smirk playing at her lips. "Good?"

A curt nod was her only response.

Melinda smile, and then sat back, ready to listen to a woman massacre Celine Dion, a man make Hitler sound like something pleasant, and man _and_ a woman butcher Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes, and then, finally, after a whole tortuous hour of performances that followed a similar trend, (Except for that one guy, who sang Let It Go like and adolescent teenager), it was time. Natasha took to the stage, and grinned cockily at Melinda, mouthing 'I'm so gonna win this shit'. Melinda only shook her head, smiling at her – dates'? cockiness. But then, in a Socratic move, she tipped her head in acquiescence. (She didn't really believe it of course – a Russian assassin that could sing?)

And then, in walked some – friends that Melinda had deemed an acceptable audience to listen to the Black Widow sing. Morse, Hill, Hand, and Hartley strode in like they owned the place, and gracefully seated themselves down next to Melinda. Amid a series of whistles, leers, and catcalls, Coulson slunk in, already feeling sorry for himself, and probably set on drinking all his sorrows away. Not that Melinda could blame him, of course, but still. Bad form, and all.

Natasha took one look at who just came in, widened her eyes dramatically, ran up to the guy pretending to be a DJ, but probably just some guy picked off the street and taught how and when to press a few buttons, and whispered close to his ear, her mouth moving at a speed some could compare to supersonic.

May just called it overdramatic, but she was more than ready to watch and enjoy the show.

"50 bucks says that Romanov's going to win." Hill puts out.

"Nah, I think that guy before, the one singing Let It Go like some preschooler will," Hand put out, because of course they heard that.

"How much are you going to go for that?" Hill challenged.

Simultaneously, because they were just _that_ kind of couple, Hand and Hartley said, "100."

Blinking in surprise, while May just raised an eyebrow, Hill asked, "So, 100, or 200? Cause I'm still gonna win, either way, and I'd like to know if I'm going to be able to buy that new pen that shoots out lasers from the Science Babies."

"200." Hand replied easily, already figuring out what she would do with the money, because yea, she was responsible like that.

"Hell yeah!" Hill grinned.

"100 on Romanov," Morse added.

"50," Coulson chipped in.

"Done," All the ladies agreed, and turned to May, who nodded, and they gave their cash to her.

And then, the music started up, and a handful of people groaned, before in a throaty, seductive purr, Natasha began singing.

"Guess it's true, I'm not good at a one-night stand

But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man

These nights never seem to go to plan

I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?"

And although the song itself was a shame to mankind, Natasha made it work. Outrageously so. Hand and Hartley both groaned, and in the next line, Natasha smiled this bright, enthusiastic, _fake_ smile, and began singing again, louder than before,

"Oh, won't you stay with me?

'Cause you're all I need

This ain't love, it's clear to see

But darling, stay with me," And then the room just lost it.

Natasha left the stage, with a firm, confident, and overall just _smug_ smirk on her face, and a whole lot of cheering.

Hand groaned. Hill smiled. Coulson looked around blandly. Morse grinned. Hartley cursed in a litany of European languages, and May just shook her head. And then she stood up.

"500 says I win."

 **SOOOOOONGGGGGGG IDDDDEEEAAAAS people!**


End file.
